January 31, 2024

Two quick stories might help you understand how the FAFSA delays and how you deal with them are not just mechanical or operational: They’re cultural.

Many years ago, back when we used to get our reimbursements as physical checks instead of direct deposits, I grabbed mine and walked to the Student Accounts Office on campus over the lunch hour to get mine cashed. I walked in, and was gratified to see that there was literally no one in line, so I walked right up to the window, and told the person behind the glass why I was there. She gave me a look I didn’t understand, and pointed to a sign on the wall that said, “Expense checks cashed 2-4 p.m. only.” It was clear to me the reason the policy existed: To better serve students by reserving time for them. But I pointed out that there was no one else there; despite this, she was unmoved. I returned about 2:30, and got in line behind four other people and proceeded to wait about 15 minutes to get my cash.

Another time, I went to get my driver’s license renewed just before the lunch hour. I walked in, saw four clerks and about six people in line. Some quick mental math suggested I’d be in and out in 20 minutes or so. But when noon came, three of the clerks closed their windows, presumably to go to lunch themselves. The five of us left in line were now bottle-necked, and the line barely moved until 12:30, when three of the four windows opened, and the one that had remained open closed. It took me about an hour. There was a strong sense that those jobs existed for the employees, not the residents of the state who needed to comply with the laws. If you’re not happy, go to another DMV office (which of course, would behave exactly the same as this one).

It was then that Deal and Kennedy’s Corporate Cultures made sense to me. If you’re not familiar with the concept, you should click on that link and spend ten minutes with it. It’s not only interesting, but will help you frame a lot of what you see in higher education and government work.

You see, those two industries, as well as some others like it, are process cultures: Almost nothing employees do individually can affect the bottom line, and so the focus is on how things get done, rather than what gets done, or even, unfortunately, the end result. Rules are the coin of the realm: A prescribed lunch break, or a sign on the wall determine and drive decisions, rather than common sense, or the convenience of the person standing in line.

Fast forward to today, when the Education Department is having lots of problems with the FAFSA. Normally launched in early October for the following fall enrollment period, the government’s “FAFSA simplification process” has caused considerable challenges, not the least of which was just getting the website launched by the mandated December 31. While that deadline was (barely) met, many parents and students reported serious problems getting the site to work, and parents without a Social Security Number still remain unable to complete the form.

Colleges have not yet received any of the submitted or processed data; even when it starts coming in, many have no place to put it, as software vendors have not been able to get information to test their code. Once that software update gets released, colleges will still have to spend time testing to ensure we can deliver financial aid packages in a timely and—most importantly, accurate—manner. In a normal world, a substantial and serious delay in this key element of student decision-making would send ripples through the system.

Update, just in: Department of Education says colleges won’t get ISIR data until mid-March. This is bad.

But true to the Process Culture of universities, some colleges are still insisting that parents and students complete the FAFSA in a timely manner. After all, thems the rules, folks, and the brochure was printed last fall. Admitted student open houses are scheduled for April. We can’t call an audible. (It would be out of character for me not to point out that some of the institutions who are being the least flexible have the lowest percentages of students who actually need to see financial aid awards to make a decision.)

And that’s where Deal and Kennedy come in. People in admissions and financial aid and enrollment management need to shift to a “Bet the Farm” approach: It’s time for big decisions that are, for lack of a better term, risky. Are you going to gamble that everything will be fine? Are you going to be the first to strike and make a big decision to change something and upend a codified process?

During COVID, my university was the first in the nation to recognize that things for Fall, 2020 were going to be different, and we made an announcement, which upset some people: The traditional candidate’s reply date of May 1 was out the window, and we were going to make it June 1. This year, we’ve informed applicants that we will not penalize them for things beyond their control, and we will consider extending that deadline if it becomes clear it’s the right thing to do.

Of course, many institutions soon followed our COVID policy, and eventually, we settled on September 1, something no one could have anticipated just a year prior. And we’re still here.

There was and is a lesson here, too. Colleges are afraid to innovate or break out of a habit for a very simple reason: If you are successful, others soon mimic your behavior and any advantage you gained is short-lived. The gambler’s winnings are soon spread among everyone. If you fail spectacularly, the cost of that failure is yours alone to deal with.

I once wrote:

But truly, if you wish to understand the admissions office, you might first start with a refresher on mythology, specifically the Roman god Janus. It is both the historic role of Janus and his dualistic nature that makes him a fitting model for admissions, and helps define the admissions profession in the early part of the 21st century.

Janus is, of course, the two-faced god for whom the month of January is named. January and the start of the new calendar year represent for many a time of looking back while looking forward; and Janus, with his two faces enabling him to see in both directions simultaneously, seems especially well qualified to do just that. The parallel is clear, of course, to high school students who are looking back at what they’ve already accomplished, and looking forward to what they hope to experience in college.

In addition to his bi-directional vision, Janus is the god who presides—at least symbolically—over important beginnings in a person’s life: Representing the transition between primitive life and civilization, between the countryside and the city, and between peace and war, while watching over the maturing of young people. And finally, he is the god of doors and gates, standing at the passage from one reality to another. If the admissions profession were to have a patron saint or god, surely Janus would be it.

It’s time for people in our profession to look in two directions: We of course have to look inside at our institutions, but there is no shortage of people in the academy doing that. We must look outside as well, and serve as that connection between the two realms.

People on the inside might not know what’s going on. But people on the outside are worried. We can be champions of both.